Hollow
by D.A. Eerised
Summary: The search for the Horcurxes is cut abruptly short when news of one of the Horcruxes reaches Harry and comapny Ginny Weasley is it. While Apparating back to Grimmauld Place, Harry veers off course and stumbles upon a dead Snape and a mad Draco Maloy. HD
1. Chapter One: Falling Apart

**Chapter One: Falling Apart**

A harsh October wind danced through the thick tangle of trees and bushes in the dark forest; fog covered the ground and made a hazy maze within nature; the moon could not be seen on this night-- the sky was pitch black, even the stars seemed to be hiding from the unspeakable things hiding in the forest. A soft popping alerted nothing in particular to the arrival of something, or rather someone. A tall, raven-haired boy, with startling green eyes pushed his way through the trees, breaking off branches and making quite a ruckus. His face was covered in tears and he looked lost and dazed. He shivered against the cold, although it seemed that his shivers held a deeper meaning, a deeper fear.

Harry Potter stumbled and fell to the leaf-covered ground. The crunching beneath his fingers only made him more agitated and he struggled to his feet, picking up the pace. Harry had no idea where he was; he had been trying to Apparate to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, but he was too distressed. News had reached him and his companions, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, that a Horcrux, a piece of a soul hidden within an ordinary object, had been located; yet the news was not all good. Harry scrunched his eyes against the already flowing tears as he remembered all too clearly what the message had been.

Dobby the house-elf had delivered the message. His usually cheerful disposition was lackluster and his shoulders drooped in an odd fashion; he'd wrung his hands as he had told Harry and his friends that they had found another piece of Lord Voldemort's soul; that piece of information had caused Ron to whoop in delight and Hermione to smile and hug Harry. Harry, on the other hand, had not been thrilled. He knew that it was good news, but he also knew Dobby, and by the elf's demeanor, he could tell Dobby had bad news.

"What is it, Dobby?" he had said, knowing full well there was more. He had not expected just how much more or just how drastically things could go from bad to good to sickeningly worst.

"Do-- Dobby does not w-wish to m-make Harry Potter angry, s-s-sir, or his Wheezy, but he m-must inform you, sir, that the Horcrux of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not an ob-object."

"What do you mean?"

Dobby had then proceeded to sob, rocking back and forth. "I-it is..." He let out a sob. "It is Harry Potter's Wheezy girl."

Silence had fallen like a dead weight dropped into the ocean. Shocked could not describe the feelings washing over the three-some.

_"What?"_

"It is Harry P-P-Potter's Wheezy girl!" Dobby wailed pitifully.

"Ginny?"

Dobby wailed louder, nodding his head emphatically.

"But…_how?_"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby knows not, Harry Po--Potter, sir; Dobby knows only what he is telling you." The elf's body trembled miserably.

Ron had been holding Hermione but once the news had sunk in, he dropped to the floor, shaking terribly; Hermione stared wide-eyed at Dobby, unable to believe it. She was mouthing "No, no, no" over and over, but it did not change the terrible reality. She clung to Ron, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Dobby, however, had more to say.

"It is the wish, sirs and mi--miss, that you return to--to the Headquarters, a-at o-once."

Harry nodded to Dobby, although for all he knew, he had not. The elf disappeared the instant Harry had given him this sign. The sound of Dobby Disapparating was enough to jolt Harry, and in that instant he had fallen to his knees sobbing and shaking. This could not be happening. It just couldn't be.

It was.

And so the three had prepared to abandon their search and return to Grimmauld Place, but Harry's emotions got the better of his magic and he had veered terribly off course and collided with a magical barrier that sent him reeling and right into the middle of some God-forsaken forest.

It was all Harry could do not to go mad.

He finally managed to stumble into a clearing. To his great surprise and possible relief, though how he could feel relief at a time like this was beyond him, a small, dark cabin stood in the clearing. The door was ajar and the windows were dark, but it was civilization. Harry sprinted to the door, not thinking at all about anything but how to get back to Ginny. He loved her. He had finally realized it after so long; finally he had found something and once again, despite his efforts, it was being wrenched from him. It killed Harry knowing that his efforts to keep Ginny safe had been in vain; it killed him to know that he could not protect her.

He stumbled into the house and a foul smell reached his nostrils. It was like walking into-- well, Harry couldn't quite explain the stench. It was so foul it made his stomach churn. Then he saw it, with a sickening wrenching of the stomach Harry sicked up all over the place at the sight of the dead and mangled body of--

_"Snape?"_ Harry hissed in disbelief. How could this be? Snape was-- dead? How?

Then a soft sound met his ears: muttering. Insane muttering. And Harry recognized the voice: Draco Malfoy.

Harry whirled around, searching in the darkness for the foul, loathsome--

What Harry saw nearly made him sick up again. Draco Malfoy indeed. This boy was a broken piece of Harry's formal school rival. The blond before him was no more coherent than Snape's lifeless shell on the floor. He was staring off into space, although his eyes were glued on Snape, and he was bloody and bruised. His eyes bulged and the silver-grey that used to glow with a fire at the sight of Harry was dead and gone.

Harry stepped closer, all thoughts of Ginny pushed to the back of his mind. Draco did not flinch; did not look at him; did not sneer; did not do anything to acknowledge Harry's presence, he just kept muttering.

"No...no...no more... I wont...You... I... stop... hurts... too much pain... can't... no... Severus... please... wake up... No... No..." Draco groaned loudly, his eyes rolling all around in their sockets. "That thing... that creature... what are you?... Who? No... leave me... I don't know... what...?"

He had not looked at Harry, but now his eyes were darting around the room as though something was there. That was when Harry heard it, the faint rattling breath and the bone chilling screams of his mother. The cold penetrated him quickly and efficiently, but Harry was ready to fight. He grabbed his wand and despite the terrible feelings within him, despite the aching of his body, heart, mind and soul, he summoned to his mind the happiest memory: His first kiss with Ginny.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he shouted. A white stag erupted from his wand and charged the Dementor that stood in the darkened doorway. The creature hissed and retreated, but Harry knew that it would be back; they did not have much time.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed, kneeling beside the boy, who had gone quiet. "Malfoy, can you hear me?"

Draco Malfoy did not look at Harry and this only proved to anger the teen. He grabbed Draco hard and shook him. "Malfoy!"

Finally, as though pulled by a magnet, silver-grey eyes met those startling green eyes and he collapsed against Harry, sobbing uncontrollably. Startled into inaction, Harry sat holding the shaking figure, before he realized what has happening. He shoved Malfoy away and glared hard.

"You--" he began, but never got to finish when he realized that Draco Malfoy was hardly there.

"Help me..." he breathed, not even looking at Harry. "I can't see them... but they're… there... I know… I can feel... oh, god…they're coming... there's too many... too many... NO!!!!!!!" He screamed and shook, falling against Harry and wringing Harry's already tattered robes. "He's coming to kill me... he's coming to kill--- Severus! Please! Let me leave! NOOOOO!!!"

His screams made no sense to Harry, but it was bone-chilling: the vacant expression on the boy's face, the fear etched into his features, and then there was the pain. Suddenly, he was convulsing as though hit by the Cruciatus Curse, screaming to high heaven, begging for mercy and that was when Harry remembered just how little he hated Draco Malfoy. At this juncture it was beside the point, but it seemed important nonetheless.

But Harry did not have time to dwell on that fact as he felt the cold penetrating him once again, only this time, the cold was much stronger. He looked around and could see from the open door a swarm of hooded creatures with decaying hands gliding through the fog towards the small cabin. Harry grabbed Draco, held his wand at the ready and shouted, "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_

The stag once again erupted from his wand and charged the creatures, but Harry did not have time to watch. Holding tight to Draco, he readied himself to Apparate. Draco would have none of it.

"I--I know who you are--- you're HIM!!!" He shouted; his eyes were unfocused. "NO! I won't be fooled! Not again!" He rushed to Snape's limp body and crouched next to it so low he was almost on top of the decaying, putrescent corpse. It was grotesque. The body must have been there for weeks; it had already begun decaying. That also meant Draco had been here, in this forsaken fortress, surrounded by Dementors with only a dead body for company just as long; hell maybe in his mind, it was longer.

"Malfoy, what are you--"

"SHUT UP! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!"

Harry realized too late that Draco had drawn his own wand. He felt a very weak spell hit him, but it did nothing. He then realized that the Dementors were still outside and threw caution out the window and dashed towards Draco, grabbed him hard and Apparated without delay.

The two landed with a thud in a field of flowers, far from the fog and cold; far from the dead body of Harry's old Potions master; far from death, but not farther from insanity. Draco Malfoy fell to the ground in a heap, staring at the sky above him.

"All dark-- so dark... can't see... all collapsing in... no...no... no more... no more..."

It was official, Draco Malfoy was no longer inside that head; he had fallen apart at the seams and it hadn't stopped till he was thoroughly unhinged.

Harry knew, with a sickening weight, that his burden was now that much larger as he now would take on the burden of Draco Malfoy.

_God help me._


	2. Chapter Two: Setbacks

**Chapter Two: Setbacks**

Harry Potter would never understand why things like this always happened to him: Was he blessed with bad fortune, or was it because of his stupid Gryffindor bravery? Whatever the cause, Harry was once again doing the unthinkable, this time: Taking care of Draco Malfoy.

Harry stared at the blank look plastered on Draco's face; his eyes were bulging and he looked quite mad, but they were completely glazed over and hollow. It was shocking to say the least; the situation was slowly beginning to unhinge Harry. Draco had been muttering and screaming and then had abruptly stopped, a complete emptiness washing over him.

Harry leaned forward and slowly moved a finger back and forth in front of Draco's eyes. They did not move; they hardly registered Harry's existence. Usually, Harry would have been glad to be free from Draco's ever-watchful eyes, sneering face, and cold drawl, but now, all he wanted was for the Slytherin to say something snide.

Harry sat back with a sigh. What was he going to do? At any moment, Draco could resume his mad ramblings and if it got any worse, he could become dangerous to himself and Harry. Harry knew what he had to do and with a new-found resolve, he leaned forward and gently, yet firmly placed his hands on Draco's shoulders.

The instant he had made physical contact, Draco began screaming and twitching. It was, again, as though someone had just cast the Cruciatus upon him. Harry quickly let go, but it did not stifle Draco's screams of anguish. He continued to writhe on the floor, still moaning and screaming, as if begging for an end. There was nothing for it; Harry grabbed Draco again, struggling to keep hold of the boy.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted over the screams. "Malfoy, stop this! I am not going to hurt you! Please! I need to get you someplace safe! NO ONE IS GOING TO HURT YOU!!" Harry continued to try, but Draco did not hear him, could not hear him. The screaming went on for another two or three minutes, though to Harry it felt like another hour while he clung onto Draco's writhing form attempting to calm him. Finally, Draco wore himself out and slumped into Harry, who immediately tensed at the closeness.

"No…" Draco moaned. "No… more," he breathed. "Can't… take….all…my fault… Please… stop… it hurts so much… so much pain…'s too dark…. Can't—no…p-please… stop…" He began shivering. "So cold… too cold…. To numb… hurts…. needles… Leave…me alone… please… don't… no...more… can't… handle...just kill me… make it stop… _please…_" His mumblings were soon drowned out as a sob escaped him and another and another. Harry stared in surprise; he had only ever seen the boy cry once before and that had been odd enough. Now, Draco Malfoy was broken, and no longer did he hold the same meaning in Harry's life; he was a victim now, and Harry was a hero, so he did the only logical thing there was to do: _Be_ the hero.

He pulled himself together, swallowed his pride, and wrapped his arms around the shivering teen, pumping his arms up and down to create warmth. Harry looked down at Draco Malfoy, the once snide Slytherin, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy. In fact, the sight brought more than just pity to Harry's mind; he knew all too well what Dementors could do to a person, and the thought of the blond being surrounded by so many for so long was unsettling. _No wonder he's like this,_ Harry mused. On impulse Harry began to speak very softly and gently to Draco, attempting to soothe him.

"Malfoy, don't worry. It's alright," Harry began awkwardly. "No one is going to hurt you. Okay? I- er, promise, no one will hurt you." His nerves were very apparent through his voice and it was a good thing Draco was still so out of it, or else Harry would have been quite embarrassed. "Don't worry about the cold, okay? I'll um, keep you warm, and I'll stay right here. No one is going to hurt you and—don't worry about the dark, 'kay? I'll be your eyes." Harry paused for just a second, to consider how absurd that sounded, then went on. "There are no more Dementors, Malfoy. I'll make sure they don't get to you again. I'll protect you."

As Harry spoke, Draco's body slowly began to relax, and soon he had stopped shivering. After Harry's promise of protection, the boy completely relaxed into Harry, his sobs subsided, and he was instantly sleeping. This would have been the perfect time to Apparate them back to Grimmauld Place, but a sudden wave of exhaustion hit Harry, as though he were being surrounded by Dementors that, rather than sucking the warmth and happiness from you, making you cold with fear, sucked the energy from you. In this state it would be dangerous to Apparate alone, much less with someone else. There was nothing for it.

With a sigh, Harry relaxed. They would have to stay the night.

Harry would have moved, but the thought of Draco having another panic attack kept him in his spot. He had planned on staying awake, but his eyes began to droop, and the heavy pull of sleep took Harry from reality, and lead him to a deep slumber.

Draco Malfoy hated the dark.

He hated the dark almost as much as he hated Harry Potter. Although, if he thought on it long enough, he would realize that now he no longer harbored such feelings for the young wizard. However, he couldn't remember why or even when those feelings had changed. Perhaps being chased by the Ministry of Magic and a psychotic dark wizard changes your outlook on the whole school rivalry business; whatever it was, Draco no longer hated Harry Potter.

But he still hated the dark. Unlike Harry Potter, the dark was unpredictable and scary. Harry had never actually been very frightening to Draco; sure he had been somewhat intimidating, but Draco Malfoy could hold his own. In the dark, however, you never knew what would be there, waiting, or what could happen. And no one would know if you were there, no would know to help you, because of the suffocating darkness. The deep pitch pressed on his eyes and he felt panicked. He could feel it rising in him; he was ready to explode as it pressed down on his chest, trying to crush and smother him in tendrils of absolute blackness. And the monsters and demons would be there to feed on him once he was dead.

So Draco Malfoy hated the dark, and he was at present, trapped in it, suffocating in it, dying in it.

He had started to wonder just how long it had been since he had seen light, been warm, and known safety, when all he had been searching for, suddenly found Draco. He could feel warmth wash over him, and as though arms were wrapping around him and shielding him, he was safe. He could feel it as though he had a body, which he had been sure he'd lost somewhere, some time ago. Now, Draco could feel the warmth where he thought his back, chest and arms should be, then his face and neck, and then every other part of him. He was warm and he was safe. Someone was watching over him, warming him, protecting him.

Suddenly, the darkness did not matter. Draco was no longer so scared; he was no longer suffocating—he could breathe again, and the fear was replaced by a pleasant calm. He suddenly realized that the dark wasn't so bad when you had company (pleasant company, at least); it was only bad when you were alone. 

And Draco Malfoy knew that he was no longer alone in the dark.  
Harry woke early the next morning. Light had only just broken through the tops of the surrounding trees, and the dew on Harry's glasses had not dried yet. He blinked a couple of times as he slowly woke, wondering why he was in a field. He adjusted himself, feeling cramped, then realized that someone was curled up in his arms. He looked down to see the white blond head of Draco Malfoy. 

The previous night's events came rushing back to him: the search, Dobby, Ginny, the failed Apparation, Snape, Draco, then the Dementors. All the pain and worry flooded Harry's mind and he choked back a sob.

He stared at the blond again. Neither of them had moved at all in the night; Harry was still sitting up, holding Draco, and Draco Malfoy was still curled up in Harry Potter's arms, snuggled close, and holding onto his robes for dear life.

A sudden tingling sensation alerted Harry to the fact that he really had to use the restroom.

_Fuck._

He slowly pried Draco's hand from his robes and set the boy on the cool grass and hurried off to use the nearest bush for relief. 

Harry had to hurry because he wanted to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place before Draco woke. He didn't think he could deal with another episode of the deranged young man's. What if he woke while Harry was Apparating and managed to get them splinched, though? Harry hadn't thought of that. All he'd thought of was getting back to Grimmauld Place, and then getting Draco to St. Mungo's.

Harry trotted back over to where Draco was lying and found the boy scrunched up in the fetal position, rocking in on himself as he lay on his side, clearly still asleep, but clearly not as calm as he had been moments before. He had silent tears streaming down his face, and his mouth was moving silently in strangled, frightened nonsense. His face was tense, and he looked scared; he kept convulsing as though he were freezing beyond all possible reason. "Upset" was putting it lightly, and Harry quickly knelt down and picked up the blond.

As soon as Harry had made contact, Draco wiggled his way closer to Harry and latched on to the young hero. He slowly stopped trembling and began to relax once again. The second Draco was nestled against Harry's chest, Harry let out a small sigh of relief; he hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath. 

"What have I gotten myself into?" Harry asked himself quietly. He looked down at Draco, who was once again peaceful. _God this is so odd._ Harry rolled his eyes and ran a nervous hand through his hair, sighing once again.

"Well, Malfoy, we really should get going," he said, though why he was telling Draco anything, was beyond him; the boy wasn't responsive, even when awake. Harry closed his eyes preparing for that familiar uncomfortable twisting, pulling, pressure as he Apparated.

It never came. He opened his eyes.

The field was still there with the sun still slowly rising over it, Harry, and Draco. "Great."

There was obviously nothing Harry could do. He could not Apparate. That was apparent and rather unfortunate considering the circumstances. Harry sat back, not daring to move away from Draco, since it obviously distressed the blond. He let his arms relax around Draco and sat in silent contemplation, wondering why he couldn't Apparate.

Draco knew he was asleep; he could just feel it, and he had no desire to wake up. He was actually quite comfortable. It was warm wherever he was, and he felt safe and was sure he had not gotten this much rest in… who knew how long, really.

And just then, an unpleasant cold washed over him. Like a swarm of Dementors, the fear of the dark came rushing back—Draco wasn't safe anymore; he wasn't warm any longer, and he was frightened.

_Why? Why is it so cold? Where… am I? Where did you go? Who are you? No… no… so dark… so cold… please come back. Please! Oh, god…. Oh god! Help! Help me! Please! Come back! Oh, no, no, no…_

Then, as quickly as it had gone, the presence was back, warming him and protecting him. The cold slowly ebbed away and the fears that had started to once again plague Draco began to dissipate--he was safe.

_Thank the gods._

Harry had finally given up on trying to solve the mystery of his faulty Apparation of the previous night, and he had stopped trying to figure out the reasons behind his inability to Apparate now. The whole thing was only making him angry. Instead he had retreated to watching over Draco Malfoy, _of all people._ But Harry was a hero; heroes protected those in need, and Draco Malfoy was now one of them.

The blond had continued to sleep, much to Harry's chagrin, for hours—the sun had risen considerably and Harry had no idea what time it was. Finally he had decided to perform a simple time checking spell and was shocked to find it almost five in the evening.

Harry was hungry, his body ached, and of course, nature was calling. He could no longer wait for Draco to just wake up; he would have to do it himself. He slowly began to move from underneath Draco, this made exceedingly difficult by the boy in question, for the second Harry tried to move, Draco clung to him with an almighty grip and refused to let go.

Well aware that Draco was still sleeping, Harry gently tried to remove himself from the boy's hands, but was dreadfully unsuccessful. Still, he needed to get up, get Draco, and find the nearest wizard's home, hopefully with a fireplace, and floo to Grimmauld Place.

"Malfoy," Harry whispered, trying his best to be nice about this. "Wake up." He shook the boy gently, but he still did not wake. Harry sighed in frustration. "Great; just fucking great. Okay, fine, but I really have to piss, you stubborn prat, so unless you want me to do it all over you—Let go!" Harry said, raising his voice.

This proved to be a mistake. True, Harry had hardly been loud, but the slight anger in his voice and the rise in it, shook the already sensitive youth, who began trembling and mumbling incoherently. Harry's expression softened quickly and guilt gripped him. He tightened his grip around the boy, trying to soothe him.

_God, this is so buggered._

"Malfoy," Harry began again, this time speaking as gently as a soft breeze. "I'm sorry. It's okay—don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. Okay?"

Draco did not respond immediately or with words, but his body slowly relaxed into Harry's once again. It was clear that he had registered Harry's short speech, however dimly or unconsciously.

Sighing again, Harry pressed on. "Now, Malfoy, we really do need to go. If you don't wake up, we won't make any progress, and I have to get someplace—it's really important—and we have to get you to St. Mungo's, so they can make you better." Harry inwardly cringed at the idea of bringing the old Draco Malfoy back, but when he looked back down at the pitiful form clinging to him for dear life, he knew it had to be done. "Please, wake up."

Draco Malfoy had never done anything for Harry before in his life, so why he would start now was beyond Harry, but luck was on Harry's side, and Draco slowly opened his eyes. The first thing Draco did was look right at Harry, locking their eyes, except that Draco's eyes were looking past Harry, not at him. A shiver went through Harry as he took in the dead, glazed look. Draco's eyes were so hollow, so cold—and not the usual Malfoy cold; the kind of cold fear that grips you, and freezes you, when a Dementor is near—and Harry felt the loneliness within Draco well up inside his own chest. Those silvery-grey eyes were begging Harry for a release from the pain; begging him for light and hope, but begging, mostly, for death.

Draco's eyes, Harry realized, made him desperately sad.

"M-Malfoy? Are you okay?" It was a very foreign feeling: concern for Draco Malfoy. Harry was not used to it, and he had never actually planned on it becoming habit. Even at the end of his sixth year, when that spark of pity for the boy had found its way into Harry, he had not expected to ever feel this way, and it unnerved him.

As Draco stared through him, Harry realized that the disturbed young man did not understand his words; he hardly seemed to recognize Harry, who was sitting right in front of him, who he was still clinging to as though his life depended on it. In fact, upon further analysis, it seemed that Draco could not see Harry at all.

Draco slowly opened his mouth and a frightened croaking voice formed the words he needed to speak: "All… dark… can't se-see a thing... h-help me..." Draco began to beg, holding Harry even tighter. Harry nodded his understanding, despite the fact that Draco would not be able to see this gesture. He slowly pushed off the soft grassy ground, holding Draco and pulling him up with him.

"Come on." And with that, the two began walking, with Harry supporting Draco's weight and guiding him.

The worst thing in the world, Draco decided, was waking up in the dark.

He had been asleep; he had been comfortable; and he had been warm and safe in the ever present feeling that he was being watched over.

There had been a shift in the Presence while Draco had still been sleeping, and out of fear of it leaving him again and never coming back, he did the only thing he could: He had held on for dear life. The gesture seemed to anger the Presence and Draco could not deal with that.

"No, I- I'm so sorry; don't hurt me… I never… never meant to—Please, don't go… don't leave me alone… stay with me… I- I need you here… I didn't mean to make you angry." He had mumbled over and over, countless apologies and silent treaties to keep the Presence from leaving him. Then he had felt the Presence tighten around him in a protective gesture and apologize to _him._ The feeling of warmth and safety had grown stronger then.

Draco knew that the Presence had begun to request something of him, and though he could not hear the words, he somehow knew what it was. After a few moments, he complied, slowly waking up. Except that his eyes wouldn't open—no, that was wrong. They were open, but it was dark; too dark. He was suffocating again, despite the Presence and its promises of protection and warmth, and he was so frightened.

He pleaded for it to help and found himself moving—he only knew this because he could feel it in his soul, not in his body; he could feel the Presence as it guided him, and though he could not see where to, he trusted it to keep him safe. Draco could not feel the Presence holding him, but he knew it was completely and totally wrapped around him.

"Thank you," was all he could manage to say and he wasn't even sure if he had spoken the words aloud or not.


	3. Ch3: Home, Horcruxes, and Hysterics

**Chapter Three: Home, Horcruxes, and Hysterics **

Hearing Draco Malfoy say thank you, had spurred Harry into a very frantic need to find a way home. He knew how desperate their situation was just by those two words, and not to say that he had not appreciated it--it had just, simply, unnerved him. It felt like a death sentence, and Harry wanted to avoid it at all costs.

The chances, of course, of them stumbling upon a wizard's residence were slim to none and as the sun set, Harry became fretful. What if they never found one? What if they were stuck out here? Why couldn't he Apparate???

Feeling desperate Harry made a sharp turn and trudged in that direction for a while. He abruptly found himself standing outside a small residence and knew just by looking at it, that someone magical lived there; the question was what kind of "someone"?

If Harry was lucky, a nice little old witch would live here; if not, it would most likely end up being a Death Eater and in his current state, they were sure to be caught. 

Screwing up his courage, Harry stepped forward and walked towards the small lodge. All over the porch were owl droppings and left over mice. Harry spotted a fair amount of empty potions bottles in the window that cast a pretty, opalescent glow. This was a very inviting place.

Harry moved Draco just slightly so he could knock.

He then waited.

Draco had gotten heavy about two hours previous, and it was a struggle to keep his almost-dead-weight up. _Dead_ weight, the thought caused a shiver to run through Harry.

Finally, the door opened and a sweet looking old witch poked her face out. 

"Yes?" she asked in a feeble, little voice.

"Er, hi, ma'am. I was wondering: Do you have any Floo powder?"

"Oh, why, yes. I do!" she said excitedly. "I just bought some yesterday. Come in, come in." she said opening the door all the way and letting Harry and Draco in.

She pulled her glasses on and gave the two a once over. She clicked her tongue. "Should have known. Young ones out frolicking never can Apparate back. Why I always keep extra Floo powder handy." She walked towards the mantle and grabbed a jar. "Well, hurry up, you. I think your friend there needs some help. I'm sure his mother will be able to give him a good fixing up once you're home."

She handed the jar to Harry and stepped back, shooing him towards the fire place, which was already lit and crackling merrily. He pulled out a fair amount and threw it into the flames. They grew and turned green and he turned to the witch, nodded and stepped in.

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place." Harry said quickly, efficiently, and quietly. He held tight to Draco with both arms and felt the familiar spin as he was sent through the Wizarding World's fireplaces.

Flooing had always been a difficult task for Harry, but never had he done it with a passenger; this, he was sure, should be an impossible feat. As they began to slow, Harry wondered, for a brief moment, how they were going to actually land, when suddenly their grate was up, and they were falling onto the floor of the kitchen in Number twelve Grimmauld Place.  
It had caused quite a lot of worry when Harry had not turned up with Ron and Hermione. At first everyone thought Harry had gone off to do something reckless, but Ron and Hermione had put a stop to these suspicions quickly and only proved to worry everyone.

Ginny was upstairs in her own room, which was now heavily guarded and under constant care, but the second she had heard of Harry's disappearance she had come running from the room.

Mrs. Weasley had worried herself sick; Mr. Weasley, if he weren't already lacking so much hair, might have lost a fair few strands. Ron and Hermione had faith in Harry, but all in all, they were fretting terribly.

When the sound of someone arriving from the fireplace alerted the house, everyone rushed into the kitchen as though there were piles of gold within. Everyone spotted Harry, who was on the floor, rolling over onto a large bundle of what appeared to be robes.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "Oh, we were so worried! But we knew you'd be alright! Oh, what happened to you?" she asked as she came around the table to give him a hug.

Ginny was there first and had her arms around him in a vice-like grip to match Draco's.

Speaking of Draco, the blonde was still firmly attached to whatever part of Harry he could reach, which at this point was his back. Harry hadn't even gotten off the floor when Ginny had flung herself at him and no one had noticed Harry's traveling buddy.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted, and a wave of tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "Oh, god, Ginny, it's so good to see you. Are you alright? How are you feeling? I—" 

"Harry," she said sternly, placing a finger to his lips to hush him. "I'm fine now; you're here." She smiled at him warmly, and he was grateful for her strength.

He looked around the room at everyone, glad to be back. "Sorry to worry you all. I don't really know what happened—"

"Oh, don't worry, dear. The important thing is you're back and you're safe," Mrs. Weasley assured. "Now, I'm sure you're hungry. I'll whip up something for you."

Harry suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten in almost two days. "Thanks Mrs. Weasley." Then Harry remembered Draco and sat up a bit straighter. The blonde still had his arms around Harry's middle from behind, and somehow no one had noticed. "Erm… Mrs. Weasley, could you make enough for two?" 

"For two dear? Why you must be—" She stopped mid-sentence as her eyes fell on Draco. "Oh, my."

Ginny glared at the boy who was still clinging to her ex.

"Let him go." She ordered.

"Ginny—"

"Let him go," she said again. This time however, she accented her point by grabbing Draco's hands and throwing them off of Harry—or rather that's what she tried to do; Draco would not budge. The attack on his person was obviously not a good idea, however, and Harry quickly had to comfort him before he had another episode. The sight made everyone in the room give Harry a painfully confused look.

"Erm, long story short—Malfoy's nutters." Harry tried.

"Excuse me?" Ginny said. She was beyond furious. "You brought him here? How could—Harry, he's dangerous!" She was obviously upset with Draco for her current situation.

"Ginny, he is not. He's frightened, and he needs help. You don't understand—I stumbled upon him and Snape—"

"Snape?"

"He's dead. Any—"

"You killed Snape?"

"What?! God, no! I wouldn't. He was dead when I got there. From the looks of it, and the smell, I think he'd been dead for a good couple weeks."

"And you found Malfoy? You didn't think he'd killed him?"

"He is not in any condition to kill. Trust me."

"Harry, listen, I know that you think people can be—"

"Ginny, please don't. Malfoy is in trouble. He's been around a lot of Dementors for far too long and I think it's best if we just feed him and get him to St. Mungo's. I'd say, by the looks of him, he hasn't eaten since—I don't know, but it's been a long time."

"Harry?

"What?" he snapped, becoming agitated.

"Well, Malfoy is, um…clinging to you. Shouldn't we—"

"No. If you do he might have a panic attack. I swear, I haven't been able to get him to let go of me since last night, except when he didn't expect me to while he was asleep. Ever since I let go of him the first time, he's been clinging on to me for dear life. I don't know what's wrong with him, but it's bad. Really bad; I'm actually really worried."

Harry stood up and Draco followed suit, moving from behind Harry to in front without so much as letting go of the young man. He quickly proceeded to bury his face in Harry's robed chest. Harry let out a sigh and patted the shaken boy's back.

Ron looked utterly disgusted; Ginny looked a very unattractive combination of hurt, angry, and confused; Hermione, and most everyone else, looked worried.

Harry moved to a seat, trying to walk normally but having a hard time of it. Finally, he managed to sit and much to his chagrin, Draco Malfoy sat and curled up in his lap. Harry nearly pushed the Slytherin off of him, but caught himself. He groaned. "Just fucking great—oh, sorry, Mrs. Weasley." He amended. 

"It's quite alright, Harry, dear, you just—relax." She said a little strained. She quickly busied herself with making Harry and Draco dinner.

"So, if he's so addled, how do you plan on getting him to eat?" Ginny asked, clearly trying to pick a fight.

"I'll manage," was all Harry said, or had the patience to say.

Ginny huffed and marched from the room; Ron looked ready to follow suit, but Hermione grabbed his arm and dragged him into a chair.

"Ron, I know you're upset—, " she began.

_"Upset?"_ Ron said, in an extremely controlled voice that was far more frightening than a shout. "That does not even begin to describe what I am feeling right now." He said, never taking his eyes off Malfoy. "I hope you know," he said, leaning in and addressing Malfoy, "that if it weren't illegal, I would use the Cruciatus curse on you right now—"

The threat registered with everyone in the room, who let out a gasp, but Harry was the one who had to brace himself as he felt Draco tense in his arms and begin to whimper. Draco buried his face deeper in Harry's chest, as though trying to burrow to safety.

_"Ron,"_ Harry said. "Fuck!" He accidentally shouted, unnerving Draco even more, who began to silently cry. "Oh, god," Harry bemoaned. "It's alright, Malfoy, just calm down." He really didn't have the energy for this. Not tonight.

"Harry, I realize that you think everyone has some good in them, or some hero bull shit like that, but this is Draco Malfoy and I couldn't give a rat's arse about him. It's just too bad the Dementors didn't kiss him when they had the chance."

That statement sent a chill through the room and Ron suddenly looked sick with himself, regretting the statement. However, no one regretted it as much as Harry who waited for Draco's response with bated breath.

At first, all appeared fine, but then Draco broke.

Sobs issued from the boy like nothing Harry had yet seen, and he was shaking so violently that Harry had to wrap his arms around him. His whimpering turned into pleading moans.

"Oh, no… no more… please…gods…make it stop….." he sobbed. "J-just kill me… don't let them come… back… no mo—more… can't take….. So dark…" Draco looked up suddenly, right into Harry's eyes and for a moment Harry was sure the boy could see him. _"Help me."_ And a moment later he passed out in Harry's arms, though his grip did not slacken.

Draco Malfoy had begun to feel sick, as an odd spinning sensation took over his body, launching him to someplace unknown. He soon felt the spinning sensation slow and prepared for the pain that usually followed after falling hard. He did not feel anything, however, and he suddenly knew that his protector had once again done something amazingly kind for Draco: he had taken the full force of the fall.

He still had not let go of the welcome presence; he would not let go of it, no matter what. Then something was trying to pry him away from the presence, —_who would do such a thing?_ —trying to take him away from the safety and warmth that was promised to him.

After what felt like an age, Draco won out and he tried to burrow deeper into the security that had been given to him. He felt an overpowering sense of negativity wash over him; an overwhelming sense of foreboding pushed against his body, making him uncomfortable and frightened. Different things moved beyond in the darkness: things that wanted to take him away from the safety and warmth offered by the presence, things that wanted to hurt him. No, they weren't going to win; the presence would not allow it.

Draco suddenly felt a shift, and he was sure that if he had a body, he would be sitting down. He felt the aura of the presence surround him, and he was glad for it; enveloped in safety and warmth, nothing could hurt him; nothing could get through to him, because the protection would not waver. Then an ominous force was thrown at him and he felt suffocated. He was being threatened by something, and he tried to find a way to hide—perhaps the presence could swallow him whole; blanket him in it and keep the threatening force from getting to him. Then the force gave an almighty push and he felt breath escape him. He became suddenly aware of his body and his breathing; he became aware of another body, a warm body, arms wrapped around him and a chest, breathing slowly and steadily; fabric covered him and the body he was in contact with; then the world came into blurry focus and he looked up. Green eyes met his and he suddenly heard someone speaking; no he heard himself speaking.

The last thing Draco heard as darkness took him was the only thing to make sense in his warped mind: _"Help me."_

Harry had been unable to get rid of Draco Malfoy; Draco Malfoy refused pointblank to let the other boy go. Not to say Harry didn't want to help, he did, very much, but he had never been this close to another boy before and the thought of being this close to Draco Malfoy for such a long period of time was grating his nerves down to a fine thin line, ready to snap.

Ron and Ginny had been furious enough at Harry's apparent audacity. Bringing Draco Malfoy back with him seemed an unthinkable, unforgivable act. Still Harry could do nothing about it, and it irked him that two people, who knew how important they were to him, would be so close-minded.

A St. Mungo's official had been dispatched to Grimmauld Place shortly after Draco had passed out. The official was not exactly a healer, more like the wizard equivalent to a nurse. The mediwizard performed a series of tests on Draco, the expression plastered on the young man's face changing so drastically, as he worked, that Harry thought he'd be sick. 

Finally, his face had set in a strange mixture of worry and astonishment, and he had left only staying long enough to let Harry know that a team of healers would be sent to help as soon as possible.

Clearly, the news was not good.

So, Harry sat, and waited. He was uncomfortable, to say the least, but he managed. Draco's weight no longer bothered him; Draco's constant clinging was not such a nuisance; Draco's constant whimpering only further provoked Harry's need to help him.

In a few short minutes Harry was once again playing host to a variety of magical medical experts, who piled into his and Ron's room. Harry stared at the large group, feeling suddenly nervous and tense. Harry noted that each seemed to be upper level Healers with special training. He looked from one shiny St. Mungo's name tag to another, taking in names and statuses.

"Mr. Potter," spoke the first healer. The name tag on the man was gold and the name itself was brilliantly glowing. "I am Healer Witherweigh; I specialize in Dementor addled patients. These are my colleagues. Healer Deespaer, who specializes in The Kiss; Healer Mellonichick, who specializes in The Affected Memories; Healer Sarowh, who specializes in—" he cleared his throat suddenly looking uncomfortable. "The more uncommon affectation of Dementors: The Soul's Rape."

A collective shiver ran through the group at these words; Harry merely stared dumbfounded, though his body shook slightly—it did not sound pleasant.

"Wh-what is that?"

"I beg your pardon?" the man asked.

"Soul's Rape? What the hell is that? It's—" Harry shivered, stopping in his question unable to find the strength to speak.

"You've never heard of it?" Healer Sarowh asked; the woman did not look pleased at having to go into detail. "Well, then allow me to explain." She breathed in deeply and withdrew her wand, taking a step forward.

Draco's reaction was almost instant; he shivered, whimpered and burrowed his face into Harry, his hands gripping Harry's robes in a desperate attempt to stay attached; to not be torn away.

The woman sighed. "It's as I feared. From the description I was given by Mrs. Weasley, I deduced that Mr. Malfoy here was not experiencing some of the more common effects of Dementors. The Soul's Rape is rare, Mr. Potter. There are only about twelve other known cases of this—er, phenomenon. In every other case the victims suffered endlessly and died within a year to a year and a half; unfortunately they were not lucky enough to die with their souls intact." She paused to analyze Draco, stepping just a bit closer. She seemed to understand the severity of it all—this clear in her position—and was able to slowly approach without him over reacting. "Now," she continued, moving her wand slowly over Draco's body. "I wasn't quite sure what to make of Mr. Malfoy's sudden desire to latch onto you, Mr. Potter. In all my studies I have never heard of a victim of the Soul's Rape ever recovering, or even acknowledging other people—even family and friends who tried to keep them safe. Mr. Malfoy is probably unaware of what is happening to him, though from what I can gather, it appears he recognizes you as someone trustworthy and someone who would protect him.

"Mr. Potter, you of course, understand what Dementors can do, yes?" She waited for his nod. "As I thought. Well, the extent of the damage they cause is actually lost on many. A Dementor's worst weapon is not the Kiss, though that is it's second. The worst thing anyone can ever experience is the Soul's Rape. Similar to the Dementor's Kiss, Soul's Rape is the hollowing out of a human's body—in essence, their soul is sucked from their physical vessel, the body. However, this is a far cry from the quick and painless Kiss. 

"Dementors have the ability to—how should I say this?—prolong the process and worsen it. It's like being stuck with hundreds of Dementors, feeling what they would normally do to one, while they steal one's soul. The soul's natural inclination is to exist within one's body as a whole. Soul's Rape, slowly but surely, rips the soul from the vessel, piece by tiny piece. This process can take up to a year. The longest ever experienced lasted about a year and two months—shortly after the last remnant of the soul left the body, the person died."

The woman paused in her speech to glance at Harry and Draco. She looked so crisp and proper; her stoic features and clipped tones made it almost impossible for Harry to like her, but when she gave him that look, her eyes shinning with something akin to sympathy and pain, Harry just looked away, casting his eyes downward, where they fell on the white-blonde head of his new charge.

"Mr. Potter, what is happening to Draco Malfoy, has not happened since the last time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reigned. It is most likely that the Dementors are acting on his behalf; to prolong such an experience is nothing short of heartless."

She reached into her robes at this point and withdrew a large bar of chocolate, which she handed carefully to Harry, who broke a piece off and put it to Draco's lips.

Draco must have known what was happening, why the chocolate was being given to him and he took the chocolate from Harry's fingers as though he were a frenzied, starving canine, accidentally biting Harry in the process.

Harry couldn't care too much about his slightly bleeding finger; the news was too much to take all at once. Draco Malfoy was now placing all his hope in Harry? For what? It made no sense—then again the woman hadn't really finished her speech, had she? Harry broke another piece off and gave it to Draco. Healer Sarowh again graced the boys with The Look before stepping back a safe distance in case her closeness agitated Draco.

"Mr. Potter, do you know the importance of your effect on Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head.

"As I thought." She smiled this time, though why, Harry could not guess, since the news was so mind bogglingly dreadful. All Harry wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die. "Well, Mr. Potter, it allows us a faint glimmer of hope; you see, if Mr. Malfoy is physically clinging to you, then so is his soul—though why none can be sure—which means that his soul is fighting harder to stay within his body. There may be hope to save the last remnants of his soul—however large that is—and possibly restore him to full health."

Harry looked up at the woman, having been watching Draco as she went on with her speech. Draco was going to die? He was going to be hollowed out, and then left to die? How could this be? Why would anyone want such a terrible thing? Harry had thought he'd hated Dementors, had thought he feared them before now, but at this juncture, this sudden fork in the already long, winding, rocky road, he decided that his new feelings towards them surpassed his old ones in just how hateful he found them.

"So, what you're saying is: I might be able to save Draco Malfoy?"

"Precisely. I have been working on some theories, (which is what I do mostly, since this is such a rare occurrence), on how to heal or restore after Soul's Rape." She paused. "I will have to return to St. Mungo's for a time to work further on these theories, along with my team, but if it is acceptable, I would like to bring my top Healers and researchers here to stay for a time. I'll keep the number as small as possible, but I want to bring the work to Mr. Malfoy and yourself; this way it does not interfere with you or him and we can work on his condition."

Harry nodded mutely. "O-of course." He finally managed.

"Good." She smiled again, suddenly giving Harry a bit of hope. "I cannot impress upon you enough just how serious this is, Mr. Potter; your generosity and good will may just save his life. Mr. Malfoy is lucky to have you." 

Harry was again unable to say anything and merely closed his eyes, nodding.

"We will leave you for now, Mr. Potter. I dare-say you are exhausted and the two of you need to eat. You should also eat some chocolate, but make sure Mr. Malfoy gets the most of it. I will see you again, perhaps in three days? Is that alright?" 

"Yes," Harry breathed, his response barely audible. 

Healer Sarowh nodded and the group departed, closing the door softly.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy--" Harry began, breaking off another piece of chocolate. Suddenly, as Draco's lips tentatively closed over Harry's fingers to take the piece from Harry, his teeth gently grazing Harry's thumb and index, the young wizard snapped. _"Fuck!"_ he said, gritting his teeth and pulling the chocolate away from Draco.

Draco, as Harry should have expected, tensed and whimpered. He almost seemed to shy away from Harry, but Harry noted that he did not.

"Bugger," Harry cursed. "Sod this all to bleeding hell!"

Draco whimpered again; Harry scoffed in response, but his anger was cooled as he watched Draco, whose body had begun to shake in the wake of Harry's agitation.

"Oh, bloody fuck—it's alright, Malfoy," he said, though his tone of voice would certainly not have put a crying baby at ease, much less a so severely traumatized young man. Harry let out a sigh as his attempt to calm Draco proved pointless. "Alright, alright, I—I'm sorry."

A whimper escaped Draco, but then he spoke. "Wh—what did I do? Is something wrong? What's happening?" he asked in a meek and fearful voice, his eyes fluttering open to search the darkness that suffocated him. His pleading eyes were shining with the threat of tears, and Harry's anger abated entirely.

"Shh, no it's nothing you did. I'm just frustrated and—tired. But the good news is, I know what's happening to you, and I think that we can make you better…" Harry said, the hope in his voice causing it to go up a notch higher in pitch.

"Better?" Draco asked. "You mean… I—I will be able to—see and…You're going to save me? I won't have to stay like his forever? I won't die here?"

A tear escaped Draco, yet the hopeful smile on his face was what really broke Harry. He tried to smile, knowing that he couldn't make any promises, knowing that he might not be able to keep them, but oh, how he wished he could. His smile was crooked and strained, and it was just a good thing Draco was blind. Harry's voice shook as he spoke, "Yes, I'll save you. Y—you're not going—to die…"

For the rest of the night Harry sat feeding Draco chocolate; he sat with the boy in his arms, bringing chocolate to the now peaceful and, unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, happy boy, until he was too exhausted to lift his arms, and soon he lay down and fell asleep, Draco contentedly curled up against him, his face buried in the hollow of Harry's neck. 

The next morning Harry was awoken by an empty feeling in his stomach. He grumbled as he made to get up, only to find that Draco was still firmly in place. His breath ghosted over Harry's neck, causing gooseflesh to break out.

Harry shivered and managed to lift them both up into a sitting position, but he still needed to actually get up, and if Draco was asleep he would be unsuccessful. He gently shook the boy, whose eyes were fluttering as though he were dreaming and whispered softly, "Wake up."

Draco stirred a bit; his eyes stopped their insistent movement, and finally they slowly opened to search that bleak darkness.

"Ar—are you there?" he asked, a note of panic rising in his voice.

"Of course, I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

Draco visibly relaxed and let out a sigh. "Thank you," he breathed into Harry's neck, moving in to the warmth of flesh and protection.

"D-don't mention it." Harry said, feeling his face flush. "Well, are you hungry? It's time for breakfast."

Draco nodded, but made no move to get up; he merely curled his body against Harry's in a tight ball, not willing to move, almost begging Harry to pick him up.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do I have to carry you?" he asked, his voice noticeably teasing; there was no scorn in the remark.

Draco smiled, taking Harry by surprise. "Carry me?" he asked, as though this were some amusing joke. "I didn't realize bodiless entities could carry other bodiless entities."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Obviously Draco was trying to make light of his—their—situation, by joking. "Erm…. Malfoy, you have a body and so do I." Harry said feeling worried.

Draco furrowed his brow. "I—I have a body? But I can't feel it…" 

Harry's heart nearly stopped. He shook himself from this shock induced stupor and made a note to tell Healer Sarowh of this when she returned. "It's alright, you have one, and I'm here. I'll just carry you then," Harry finally said, resigned to his fate; Draco really couldn't help it if he was in need and Harry just happened to be the only one able, or rather, willing to care for him.

Harry found, to his dismay, that Draco Malfoy was lighter when he wasn't dragging himself as though dead. In his arms, Draco was not such a heavy burden, which made it easy for Harry to descend the stairs without hindrance.

Arriving in the kitchen, Harry found that he was the only one there, although food was ready and waiting, a charm placed on everything to keep it warm and fresh.

"Erm…" Harry started, realizing how difficult it would be to make plates for the two of them while carrying the blonde. "Can I set you down for a moment?"

Draco clearly didn't like this, as his immediate reaction was to tighten his grip around Harry and mumble incoherently, shaking his head. 

"Alright, alright, it's okay, I won't let you go. I'll just—erm…" Harry paused to think, then sat down, with Draco, once again, in his lap. "Use magic," he finally answered, pulling his wand from his robes pocket.

"M-magic?" Draco questioned. "Y—you can do magic?"

Harry blanched. Draco Malfoy didn't know about magic? Suddenly, the entire situation seemed worse. "Of course I can. And, might I add, so can you." 

"I—I can…?" Draco said sounding quite skeptical. 

Harry raised his wand and began making them one large plate that was overflowing with food by the time he had finished. He angled his wand, and the plate slowly dropped to rest in front of him and Malfoy.

"So, what do you prefer? Bacon or sausage?" 

Draco did not get to answer, however, for right at that moment, the door burst open, colliding with the wall, a loud _bang_ resonating around the room, causing Draco to shrink into Harry and tremble. On the other side, Ginny Weasley stood looking furious. 

Harry felt suddenly over-protective, and shielded Draco from her wrath, fixing her with a glare to rival even Voldemort's.

"So you're feeding him now, are you? Feeding him our food! The food my mum made for us!?" she shouted. Draco began to whimper. "Shut up, Malfoy!"

_"Ginny."_ Harry warned.

She turned her blazing gaze on him, trying her best to intimidate, but he was not Harry Potter for nothing. He shot her an equally heated death glare, before trying to calm Draco. 

"Shh, don't worry—"

"Wha—what's go—ing on? Why was the—what is it?" he whimpered, tears beginning to fall.

"It's nothing, just a—" Harry glanced up at Ginny and his eyes hardened. "It's _nothing._" 

Ginny bristled. "How _dare_ you, Harry?!"

"How dare _I_?" Harry asked a dangerous edge to his voice. "Really now? How dare _I_?" His voice steadily began rising, and Ginny, despite herself, backed away a bit. "Ginny, what is wrong with you? What kind of—_god, I can't believe you._ He's in trouble, Ginny. You want me to what? Throw him out? Let him die? Do you even know what's happening to him?"

Ginny shook her head.

"No you don't, and you shouldn't—" 

A sob stopped Harry's tirade as Ginny's eyes watered. "Harry, how can you be like this? What about _me_? I'm your bloody—" she broke off, catching herself. "I _was_ your sodding girlfriend! _Your girlfriend!_ Doesn't that mean—Harry, what about me? I'm a Horcrux… I have a piece of V-V—Vo—" she paused, trying to find her strength. "Voldemort's soul in me. Inside of me, Harry. I've been violated and I'm being used. I can't stop it—I don't know what to do and you—you're worrying about _Draco bloody Malfoy_? How dare you? I'm a Horcrux! A HORCRUX! Do I need to spell it out for you? Voldemort is using me and inside of me—his soul is in me, mixing with mine, tainting it and—"

"Ginny," Harry spoke, his voice soft and measured. "I—I know. I know and it hurts me too, but I can't do anything about it. The only way I could bring you peace, as far as I know, would be to kill you, and I can't do that. There are Healer's here working on your condition, and I know Hermione is helping; she's smart like that. I'm not though. I can't do anything for you, Ginny. I can't be there to fight your demons because I—"

"You've got some stupid hero's mission, and you think that maybe if you save Draco Malfoy he'll be redeemed." The contempt in Ginny's voice was like ice. "Harry, he's past saving. He tried to kill Dumbledore, let Death Eaters into our school, sent a crazed werewolf into our school! And you just sit here and act like it's nothing. _How?_" 

"You weren't there." Harry said, his voice shaking. "Come to think of it, you never really were. You were there at the Department of Mysteries, but that's all. You weren't there for anything else. Hell, you weren't even there when I fought to save your life, while Tom Riddle tried to kill you and me! You were unconscious and nearly dead, and if I recall, it was _your own damn fault!_ I am sorry—beyond—that you now have a piece of Voldemort inside of you; mingling with your essence and if you think I can't be arsed to care, then you are sorely mistaken. But guess what? You're not the only one. Dementors are stealing Draco's soul, piece by tiny piece; shredding it and taking it apart slowly but surely; he won't even _have_ a soul when they get through with him."

A thick silence followed his words, and as much as Harry hoped his words had gotten through to Ginny, he knew he was asking too much.

"Draco? _Draco?_ You just called him—"

"Ginny, get out."

"What? NO! I will not! Look at you! Holding him, coddling him—feeding him! He's in your lap, in your bed—god, it's disgusting! You don't care about me; you care about your sick little boyfriend, who no one else cares about! No one else is as deluded as you; no one else wastes their time!"

"Ginny, I already told you: _Get. Out._" Harry's words were dangerously low and deathly cold.

Ginny held her head high, not moving. "You are so selfish."

_"Fuck you."_ Harry said, electricity suddenly crackling in the tension filled air. "Selfish? Right, that's why I dragged my arse through countless dangers my first year at Hogwarts when I was eleven, because you know, I was trying to stop Voldemort getting the Philosopher's Stone—not because I wanted to save everyone—oh, no! Heaven forbid! No I clearly wanted it for myself! Oh, bad Harry. And let's not forget my saving my godfather from Azkaban and Dementors and trying to bring the rightful killer to justice! God, how selfish of me!

"Oh and here's a really good one for you: When I was fourteen, how I was too selfish to take the TriWizard cup all for myself, no, I had to share the glory!" He let out a bitter laugh. "And then I went off, gallivanting to the Ministry to save my Godfather—or so I thought—again, because I was so selfish! Oh, and let's not forget the most recent events where I displayed how selfish I am. Like how I had to learn all sorts of things about Voldemort, so that when the time comes, I can save this bloody world! Or how I had to—on Dumbledore's orders—feed him a potion to get to a piece of Voldemort's soul—oh, but I wasn't really going to destroy that bit, I was going to put it someplace safe—because you know how easy it is for people to break in to Inferi infested lakes!" 

Harry paused in his rant for a moment to breath, but he was not finished yet.

"But don't worry, Ginny, I've saved the best for last. After all, how could I forget my second year—god, I was probably the most selfish back then— when I went down into the Chamber of Secrets to save my best friend's little sister, a girl I hardly knew, because she had been _taken_. I fought a Basilisk with a bloody hat, a phoenix, and finally a sword—yet I still managed to get a fang shoved in my arm. I nearly died trying to save you; you who were born into a Wizarding family, who knew about books like that, yet you were too young and full of woe to think of the consequences and nearly got yourself, countless other students, Hermione, Ron, and myself killed, and ha! selfish me, I stopped it all. Gee, Harry, you should feel so ashamed of yourself." Harry fixed her with a withering look before finally saying, "I hope you're happy, I've mended my ways—I'll never be so _selfish_ again. So, then does that mean I don't have to fight Voldemort? Can I throw in the towel?"

Ginny stared at Harry, shock and hurt written on her face, but now she was right, he really couldn't be arsed to care.

"Oh, but wait, I almost forgot! I _can't._ I _can't_ throw in the towel! I can't be selfish this once, because there was a prophecy and either way one of us has to die and--" Harry paused again, trying to reign in his mounting emotion. "I have to be Harry fucking Potter and save this forsaken place, whether I want to or not. I never actually got to choose that part of my fate, but I will be damned if I let it destroy me or my friends."

Ginny laughed a fearful laugh at this. "S—so he's your friend now? Is he?"

Harry, who had actually forgotten Draco sitting in his arms, looked down. Sure enough, Draco was cowering in the wake of Harry's anger; his lips were moving ceaselessly and he was trembling and sweating, pawing at Harry to try and get his attention, or find that much needed peace: He found only anger.

But this was a sobering image and Harry let out a sigh, running a reassuring hand over Draco's arm. "I don't know, but he needs me, Ginny. He needs me a lot more than you do. I'm all he has and I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I let him die--- no one deserves that Ginny. No one. Of all people, I would think you would understand."

"What?"

"Ginny, you said that Voldemort is inside of you, mingling and tainting your soul—Dementors are inside him, most likely on Voldemort's orders—mingling and tainting and stealing his soul. He isn't the same Draco Malfoy. He's just as in need as you and he's frightened, and damn it Ginny, unless you're blind, I don't know how you can't see this." 

"It's Malfoy—"

"So what? He won't even be Malfoy if we let this go on. Ginny, no one deserves this, and if you really can't even try to care, even a little bit, then you're not as great a person as I thought you were."

Harry stood, casting a quick levitation spell on the plate of food, Draco in his arms, and headed for the door.

"Harry, please—"

"No, Ginny. There is no pleading in this. I've made my decision; I'm helping Draco and once we get him back, I am helping you, and killing the creature that started this whole mess. If I loose you, as a friend, I regret it, but maybe you'll come around some day. I will not loose you any other way—but, if that does happen, I'm sorry that you can't look past your issues and see what someone else is going through, and I'm sorry that we stopped being friends. I love you, Ginny. Although, I am starting to question it, I still love you. I just think—" he sighed. "If you still think that we have a future together, you are wrong, and you just showed me why."

With that Harry left, carrying Draco and returning to the safety of his room.


End file.
